


Art of Acting

by Kay (sincere)



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Crossdressing, F/M, Frottage, Gender Roles, Porn, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 01:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/338287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincere/pseuds/Kay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They cast her as the male lead in the play. Estelle had no idea how much she would get into it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Art of Acting

"You there," said a familiar voice. "Can you tell me if Madam Kaufman was-- Oh! L--" Estelle turned to see if she was being addressed, and Flynn's face flushed, caught off-guard as he stared at her. He had lifted an arm to point, and he lowered it, awkwardly. "Lady Estellise?"

It had probably taken him a moment to recognize her in the dark corridor, and unsurprisingly. She was dressed in a man's doublet, with her hair carefully styled to make it seem shorter and mimic a more masculine cut, and her figure bound slightly (why did it only need to be bound slightly) to make her curves less noticeable. But the fact that he had likely mistaken her for a boy was -- at least this time -- a bonus for her, and she rushed down the hallway towards him, paying no mind to the embarrassed flush on his face.

"Flynn! Isn't it wonderful? The actors' guild cast me as the hero in the play!" She did a little pirouette, showing off her costume. "I'm _so_ excited!"

"I wouldn't have believed it -- you look incredibly convincing," said Flynn, obediently looking her up and down and smiling, warm if a bit distracted. "You must have real talent as an actress to have landed a role like that."

Estelle paused, and reluctantly admitted, "Oh, it wasn't for my acting. I was the right size to fit into the costume, and their regular was sick... But I've been practicing, so I'm sure I'll manage."

And she had many hours of practice, technically, even if the only audience to her previous acting gigs had been the mirror, as she paced back and forth in her room, reading the lines from her books aloud and gesturing passionately or having mock-swordfights with the air.

Her enthusiasm swung back into high gear. "Let me show you! You like my costume, right?"

There was a beat of hesitation, Flynn's gaze flickering down again as she took a step closer to him, close enough that they were almost touching. She was feeling bold. Maybe -- empowered. Was it the way that men dressed that was the key to the archetypal male confidence?

"Lady Estellise--"

"So let's say that you're... Well, you're a knight, naturally," she said, her eyes lingering on his armor. There was so much of it; it was difficult to imagine him in any other role. He'd had much less armor when he had indulged her, once before, weeks -- months ago, now, and she found herself eager for that kind of contact again.

Maybe a little more than last time.

"And I'll be Ioder--"

"Master Ioder?" His head snapped up, blue eyes wide with something like alarm.

"Not Ioder," she corrected quickly. "Just a prince. Like Ioder!"

She would think of herself as Ioder _privately_ , then.

"And I'm going off on my own to rescue the princess from the play," she said, sparing a thought for Rita, somewhere on the other side of the stage, in the elegant dress Estelle had admired so before they had taken her off to do her hair and makeup. "You want to stop me, of course, from taking on the demon lord by myself, but I won't have you endangered, because you're a very dear friend of mine."

Like the Amber Knight. She stepped in again, and they were flush against each other, Flynn now with his back against the wall. He still seemed uncertain. "I-- Are you sure about this?" he asked.

"I've never been more sure of anything," Estelle promised him, fervent. "This is my duty to my kingdom -- and my wish."

His lips quirked up at her acting, as promised, but the feel of his body against hers, firm and warm, distracted her from it. She knew how his uniform fit together, in theory: black turtleneck and leggings, tunic over that, blastia fit into the chest, and then the layered armor. But she was still interested to learn that the plate greaves did not go all the way up his thighs, and that she could fit quite neatly between his thighs and press against him without coming up against metal, and that doing so made Flynn take a strangled breath.

She had always loved the Amber Knight. Ioder had surely loved him too, she thought, when he had read the same novels. His loyalty, his sincerity, and his faith... The way he had never wavered or faltered. His steadiness and consistency were qualities _anyone_ would want in their closest companions.

"Don't worry about what I'm setting out to do," she said softly. "I'll be back. I only ask you to wait for me."

And she shifted, experimentally, rubbing her hip between his legs, and Flynn's head tipped back, a soft moan in his throat, a breath of her name that she steadily ignored. She felt hot with his obvious enjoyment, feeling him starting to stiffen against her stomach, where a tension of her own was building. They didn't say, in the books she had secretly glanced at in the library but never dared to bring back to her room, that touching someone _else_ was as pleasing as being touched.

Estelle exhaled softly, leaned in close and pressed her lips to his neck, ground herself into the cradle of his hips again. She could feel his heartbeat quicken, the shiver of hunger in his body, to say nothing of his hardening -- organ pressing against her. It was so much more intimate than the chaste embrace and the lingering kisses of their last encounter, much more raw and sweetly edged than the thrill that had gone through her when she brought his gloved hand to her cloth-covered breast. They were fully-dressed just like they had been then, and yet it felt outrageously scandalous.

Flynn's hands settled on her hips, and for a moment Estelle worried that he was going to end the game, decide that it had gone too far. It wasn't as if they were _really_ doing anything very scandalous-- Well, that was to say, she wasn't even touching him directly, she wasn't going to start removing articles of clothing, and they could both still pass for presentable if anyone came by...

But he didn't push her away. He only held her in place; if anything, nudging her a little closer, as if inviting her to feel his erection. It felt... large. She wondered how it compared to those of other men (to Ioder?) and a flush crept up her face in spite of herself.

"So this -- is how you say goodbye?" he asked, a strange husk to his baritone voice that she hadn't heard before, amusement mixed with something else.

Estelle paused, for a beat; she asked herself, what might Ioder have said...? "You're less likely to try and follow me if you're worn out," she informed him, as lightly as she could manage, and then she flattened herself into him as best she could, her hips pressed between his thighs, her chest flat against his, the heat of his erection ground between their bodies. Flynn made another noise in his throat, choked, that she liked even more than the husk.

Intellectually, she knew that she could touch him there if she wanted. And oh, she wanted to. She was so curious, wanted to trace the curve of him through the fabric, wanted to open his pants and pull him out and stroke him and memorize what a man looked like with her own eyes. But she was nervous that somehow moving her hands below the belt would be crossing some unspoken line, that he might feel that this was acceptable but _that_ was tarnishing her virtue beyond what he could justify. And _this_ was something that she knew men could do together.

Flynn made it easy, too. He made no indication that he wanted more, or that he was dissatisfied; if anything, the opposite. She did not touch him with her hands but he responded to even the bluntest of touches with gratifying earnestness, moaning softly as she rubbed against him, his fingers tightening convulsively at her waist, as if they were locked in some dance that had gone far past what he could reveal in polite company. And although he touched her little in return, the coil of heat in her stomach had melted, leaving her feeling wet, her breathing unsteady. She felt a sort of fascinating sympathetic tension, as if every pulse of arousal that seemed to go through him was echoed in her body.

_Oh, Flynn,_ she thought, and wet her lips. There were so many things she read about, that she wanted to try, but she knew that he would shy away from them, wanting to leave her untouched for the man she would marry.

And she had a princess to rescue in mere minutes, so she couldn't afford to let this get more involved.

But when she rubbed into him Flynn pressed back, rocking with his hips as if stroking himself against her belly, his lips suddenly dropping to her ear: nuzzling, breathing thickly against the sensitive skin. His hips pushed forward again, finding a short rhythm, and Estelle went still, raptly attentive. If she were a man, _Ioder_ \-- oh, it was so vivid in her mind, the way they would strain together, panting and intent, desperate as they came close, so close, building up to that last moment, and she didn't even notice her own fluttering moan --

Flynn went still all of a sudden, a groan seizing him, not quite loud enough to make her wonder if he'd be heard. Her arms flew to his ribs as he sagged, worried he might fall and make a very fierce clatter in his plate armor that would definitely be heard. He took a moment to recover his breath, and he was deeply flushed when he looked up at her, his eyes dark and pupils blown.

"Lady Estellise..." he started thickly.

"Thank you for playing along with me, Flynn," she said, for all the world as if this had all been scripted, and he had simply helped her to rehearse.

"I'm -- sorry. I wasn't -- thinking. You... you weren't..."

Estelle smiled for him, bright. She felt very strange, her body still tingling and sensitive, restless deep down in her core. But she could step back, once she was sure he would stand on his own, and lift her arms to brush at her hair, making sure it was still in place. She was strong, energized, alert.

"No," she admitted. "But I feel fine."

"Well--"

A guildsman came through, barely even glancing at them, now a more respectable distance apart. He was calling hurriedly for places, for actors, for scenery... Estelle's head turned to follow him, and when she looked back, Flynn seemed stricken.

She urged, "You should go into the audience and watch! It's going to be a good show," and added impishly, "You _saw_ what a good actor I am, right?"

She wasn't sure if she was acting now or not. Although she felt infinitely strange, it seemed a bit like it was being experienced by someone else.

She felt better than fine. She felt _great_.

"Lady Estellise--"

"Go on," she insisted, going over to a mirror to check herself and make sure that she was presentable. Flynn hovered behind her helplessly for a moment before giving up, with a sigh, and heading out from the corridor with its hanging curtains.

Her hair was still in place, just a few runaway strands that she tucked neatly to order, and there was no flush on her face, covered by the stage makeup. When her fingers traced over her ear where Flynn's lips had been, she could still feel a tingle, echoing in the damp between her legs, and she pressed her thighs tight together and closed her eyes. Her body was still hoping for more, but for some reason the _rest_ of her was content enough to sing.

The play could have gone better, all things considered, but everyone said that she glowed on the stage, filled with energy and passion, and Estelle was pleased with herself for discovering her first acting technique.


End file.
